The continuing saga of shaun ~MISIFT the snitch~ stephens of Auckland

Discussion in 'NZ Computing' started by shaunnstephens@yahoo.com, Apr 20, 2008.

  1. Guest

    part 3 of many
    hey, at least I have a job!!!
    shaun

    enjoy!


    Checking into a sleazy motel has never been so much fun! Still high,
    my head in clouds, I spin a good yarn with the clerk, a Vietnam
    veteran. Outlaw has only one leg, but he has a sense of humor.
    Immediately, we connect and talk like we've known each other for
    years. He rents me a (bugless, he says) room for the night, I hook him
    up with a cool paintbrush, ivory imitation handle with a deer motif,
    $19.99.

    - Yer eyes 'r a bit red there, sonny boy. You been drivin' a lot, eh?

    I laugh heartily, and confirm.

    - Yeh, right, drivin - he says - shiiiet. Spare some of dat 'erbal
    essence for a war hero, son? I know ya got some. I usually like me
    dilaudids and needle but herb is fine too...
    -Steve (outhouse's real name)! - his nursehelper sounds off from
    behind the reception - don't bug the young man now. Ya know ya
    shouldn't be gitt'n high at yer age anyways!

    We're alone in the lobby and as I judge by the keys, the Joneses Motel
    is pretty much vacant.

    - That goes for me, too, Outhouse(outlaw).
    - Arrh, the heil wit' her. Ya hear dat, Brenda? Im'ma do what I like.
    Besides, it me-dic-i-nal, ya heard? C'mon, sonny, I've got some fine-
    ass brandy under da counta'.
    - Lead the way, Stevieboy.

    I roll him out to the back yard. It's cluttered with old tires, an
    ancient engine block and a children's swing hanging from a maple tree.
    I roll another blunt.

    - My nephew used to play out 'ere, ya know. Made da swing myself.
    Later, he grew up and moved to da big city wit' all dem jackoffs.
    Became a lawyer. One of dem high rolla' sharks like my adopted daddy
    is--he was a da ya know. The cop's attor-ney.

    I take a huge puff and pass the joint to Steve(outlaw). His eyes light
    up as he inhales.

    - What's the nephew's name?
    - Steve Jr.
    - How very innovative on your behalf, Stevie.
    - Oh, screw ya, brush boy.

    We laugh.

    - Does he call you a lot these days?
    - Aaaw, heil no. Brenda(my caregiver) and I hear from him once, maybe
    twice a year. Busy as a sumbitch. How 'bout you? Got any tykes of yer
    own?
    - Nah. Don't even have a wife yet.
    - How come?
    - I suppose I'm a bit picky. Hell, I don't know. It's just that - I
    take another hit - every time I meet a woman, somehow I scare her off.
    Don't know what it is.

    Stevie takes a hit, then coughs.

    - Shiiiet. 'Dis be some strong-ass weed, boy. Look, you can't start
    hittin' 'em right off da bat. Ya got to wait 'till yar married first.
    - Oh, no, I'd never hit a woman.
    - Well, there's yer problem, then I even killed one while dui and her
    kid. You have to show em who's boss says stevie (outlaw)
    - STEVIE! - Brenda yells like a harpy from Hell.
    - See what I mean, boy? 'Less ya hit 'em, they all start behavin'
    sooner or lata'. It's just a shame I love Brenda my caregiver too dam'
    much.
    - M-hmm.

    We take a couple more swigs of Steve's brandy. It's strong liquor,
    noticably toxic, and I feel extremely light headed. I roll him back
    inside on his wheelchair and leave him behind the counter, where he
    nodds off. My room, upstairs, is bug-free, just like promised. I fold
    my clothes and put them on a chair, and a minute later, I'm passed out
    in the bed.

    Upon awakening, I realise that it's still night outside. What's weird
    is that, I can't move. I look at my hands.

    They
    are
    impaled
    on
    meat
    hooks
    ..

    I look down, at my feet.

    My
    feet
    are
    bloody
    stumps
    and
    my
    knees
    are
    shattered
    ..

    The room smells musky, like a snake cage in the zoo. The stench is
    overwhelming, to the point where I feel like vomiting on myself. I'm
    naked, immobilised and swimming in my own sweat. The door swings open.
    There is no light outside, instead, darkness fills the room. This...
    creature, enveloped in a black cape, hooded, waddles to my side and
    stops. I cannot see it's face, but it murmurs in a voice that reminds
    me of... something... someone. I can't make out what it's saying, but
    as one of it's hands raises, I realise that it's holding a syringe,
    filled with some sort of neon-green liquid. I cower interror. I try
    and scream, but the air is too thick and nothing comes out. My eyes
    dart all over the room, and I recognize... The eyes. Looking at me.
    Winking with evil satisfaction. Waiting.

    The hooded creep comes closer. It lightly taps the syringe on the side
    and some of the liquid squirts out of the needle. It's one of those
    large needles, the kind they use to dope up horses. The needle hovers
    close to my dick, and I hear the creep cackling to itself. And then it
    injects me.

    My dicks starts to become erect. Nothing in this situation would even
    be close to arousing me, yet there you have it. My dick is hard and
    upright like a mast, but it doesn't stop growing. It bulges like some
    sort of mutant, with disgusting looking lumps and bumps all over it.
    The veins are snaking everywhere, and I see and feel it pumping and
    pulsing, animalisticly, the head huge, malformed and oozing black
    liquid. It's as big as a 6 month baby. It's bleeding from it's pores.

    The creep gets on top of me and lifts it's cape, to reveal two bony,
    scaly legs. It mounts my monstruos dick and starts impaling itself on
    it, moaning and writhing with pleasure. My brain spins in these
    horrific events. I'm close to passing out. Yet the creature won't
    stop, and it goes faster. Grinding with wild abandon.

    And faster.

    It shudders, and lets out a shriek of a murdered panda bear. My ears
    go deaf. As it slides up and down on my crotch, suddenly it stops,
    looks me straight in the eyes and I am sure that, for a moment, I can
    recognise it. Then, it just explodes in a cloud of gas and a huge,
    stinking pile of excrement. Shit is all over my body, my chest, my
    face, in my eyes. I feel it's wormth. I taste it in my mouth.

    Someone yells out:

    - Moooom!

    I jump out of my bed, shaking and sweating. Outside, I hear birds
    chirping. The old drapes are letting some sunlight in the room. I sit
    on the bed for a while, pondering what the hell was THAT all about. As
    the pounding of my heart settles, I go inside the bathroom to freshen
    up and take a piss. My dick looks normal, as it's always been. On the
    way to the shower, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I
    still can not see my face. It just... isn't there.

    After the shower, I put on my clothes and prepare to vacate the
    Joneses Motel. Stevie (outhouse) is as cheery as ever, despite a
    crushing hangover, and chats with me for a bit. He escorts me to the
    door, and once outside, I take a deep breath of fresh air. Things are
    looking up. Today, the citizens of Auckland will have a rare privilege
    of buying some of the best damn Merc&Sons brushes in the world.
     
    , Apr 20, 2008
    #1
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